Four Dances
by Convenient Alias
Summary: In which Daisy Buchanan dances with a few different partners, and tries to figure out what kind of dance partner she actually wants. No real plot, mostly fluff. Oneshot.


AN: I have no idea if Daisy liked dancing or not. Assuming she somewhat did, this is a story about her dancing with a couple different people.

* * *

The first time Daisy went to a party with actual dancing, it was the wedding reception of an uncle. She barely knew the uncle. She was only ten and he was not the type to be fond of children. However, her parents insisted that she go, claiming it was only right to attend as a family. And, they said, all of that side of the family would be there, so she was sure to have someone to talk to.

To Daisy, that meant that Nick was coming.

Daisy did not know Nick very well, of course, but they always found each other at family reunions. There weren't many other people there their age, often, only a few other cousins, and the other boys were too noisy and loud and the other girls weren't noisy enough. Daisy rather liked Nick, when she saw him, though she didn't see him that often.

The wedding reception was very grand, but Daisy was used to grand. She tried to keep quiet as she flitted past tables with white tablecloths and fancy food and women in fashionable dresses and men in tuxedoes, but they didn't make her uncomfortable. Only, she was bored. That was why she was trying to find Nick. He wasn't at his family's table and she had no idea where he would be. When she finally bumped into him at the table of some man she didn't know, he laughed and said he'd been looking for her too.

"You should have stayed at your table," Daisy said. "I would have found you much quicker."

"You could have stayed at your table, too," Nick countered. "Besides, my parents wanted to dance."

Daisy said, "They weren't dancing when I got there." They'd been talking to another man she didn't know. The wedding reception had her uncle's entire extended family at it, but also many others of his friends and acquaintances.

Nick shrugged. Not a very talkative fellow, Nick.

"I guess they got caught up talking," Daisy said, "Mother and Father did too-that's when I started looking for you. They probably haven't even noticed I'm gone yet."

Nick grinned. "If we were to play hide-and-seek, they might not find you again all evening."

Once Nick and Daisy (and a couple other cousins who had agreed to join) had been playing hide-and-seek at a party and Daisy had asked her father to be seeker, since none of the cousins wanted to do it. The father had agreed to search for them after a reasonable amount of time, but had quickly forgotten the game of hide-and-seek altogether. Eventually most of the cousins had gotten bored and come out of their hiding places, but Nick and Daisy had been persistent. They had ended up falling asleep in their hiding places and their parents had panicked at being unable to find them. Of course, it had not been their fault that their parents weren't good seekers.

Daisy said, "I don't want to play hide-and-seek." At ten, she was getting too old for such things. Besides, as she told Nick, there were too many people bustling around the rooms to hide effectively. If they hid under tables they might get in trouble, and there weren't many other places.

Nick said, "Want to dance?"

At that point in her life, Daisy had never danced at a party before. She knew how to dance only a little, and only formal dancing, and she had learned from a very strict teacher in a very formal class and she did not much like it. And it certainly didn't seem like the kind of thing to do for fun. However, Nick's suggestions were usually good. He was very creative (people said he would be a writer someday and Daisy quietly agreed). Dancing wasn't a very creative suggestion, now, since about half the adults at the party were doing it, but Daisy hadn't thought of it at least.

It seemed childish to say that she thought dancing was dull and she wanted to have fun, anyways. Instead she said, "I'm not very good at dancing."

"That's fine," Nick said. "We can stop if you get frustrated."

Daisy made a mental note to say she was frustrated a couple minutes into the dancing. Nick pulled her through the crowds and small groups of people standing around the white tables and over to the dance floor. It was crowded with couples, mostly the same men in tuxedoes and women in fashionable dresses. Nick was wearing a suit too, and Daisy was wearing one of her nicer dresses, but they were still a lot smaller than anyone dancing there.

Daisy considered backing out. Nick probably wouldn't blame her; he was too nice.

But before she could turn away or open her mouth he had pulled her onto the dance floor. His hand was already placing her hand on his shoulder, his other hand grabbing hers and holding it up. Then his first hand was on her waist and he looked up at her at last."Let's go."

And then they were dancing. The song was a fast song, upbeat, not the kind of song Daisy had danced to when she was learning. And Nick didn't dance like the boys she had practiced with. He was faster for one thing, and more sure of his movements. He led her deftly, not clumsily or uncertainly like the boys she'd danced with before. At some point she stopped comparing and just decided to enjoy herself.

She didn't step on Nick's foot. Their knees did crash a couple times, but they recovered quickly. It was all about the music and the motion, and there was no room for embarrassment. They didn't stop at one song. Rather, they continued for three separate songs until not only were they both exhausted but a slow song was on.

"Um," Nick said, his face red (though that was at least partly because he was out of breath). "I don't dance to slow songs."

Daisy did, but she could see that it probably wouldn't be Nick's style. Reluctantly, she allowed him to pull her through the crowd to the edge of the party. They wandered back to Nick's parents' table, where Nick's parents were still talking.

Nick laughed and told them he got to dancing before they did, and they laughed back and told him to run along and keep Daisy amused. And that was basically the rest of the night.

* * *

Dancing with Nick was not the same as dancing with boys.

Thus, although Daisy had a good deal of fun dancing with Nick that night (and several times in the future) she still often hated dancing with boys. The music was nice, the movement was nice, but they didn't seem to get into it the same way she liked to. Sometimes they liked to talk and they always wanted to slow dance.

Daisy was grown up now (just) and she knew she was supposed to like more adult dancing now, but she still loved swing and rhythm and flair, deft movement and music that forced her to move. And she still had never enjoyed dancing a slow dance.

That is to say.

She never enjoyed dancing a slow dance until she met Gatsby.

Gatsby wasn't very rich, although he said he came from a good family out West, but he had his own sort of style. He dressed flashily even though it was obvious that he couldn't afford truly good clothes, and he told the most extravagant stories Daisy had ever heard. So his lack of class didn't bother Daisy all that much when it came to their going out. It did, however, mean that he wasn't invited to a lot of parties. Daisy had known Gatsby for about a month before they ended up dancing together.

Now Gatsby tended to exaggerate his skills, even the skills he didn't really have. Daisy didn't mind of course; it was part of what made him so entertaining. But when he told her that his dancing skills were somewhat good, refusing to elaborate, she thought that probably meant he had no skill at dancing at all.

She was wrong.

On the dance floor it was like Gatsby became something wild and animal yet at the same time polished and controlled. His dancing was passionate and energized, but at the same time with a smoothness that Daisy could not help but admire. It was like when Gatsby danced everything about him became more...Gatsby-like.

"Tell me," Gatsby demanded in a breather. "Do you like dancing with me?"

The question was a farce. He must have seen how she felt about it in the flush on her face, her shining eyes and the grin that responded to his. He must have felt it in the swing of her body on the dance floor, in the way their heartbeats seemed to synchronize with the music.

"I love dancing with you, Jay," Daisy said. She leaned forward and kissed him on his grinning lips.

He couldn't stop grinning long enough to kiss her back.

"Well," he said. "I love dancing with you, Daisy, and I love you too."

Daisy didn't say she loved Gatsby because it didn't seem proper; a girl had to be demure. Besides, Gatsby had to know it already. Surely he had assumed her love from the beginning; he had an arrogant streak as wide as the Nile.

Instead she said, "Your dancing reminds me of a man I know. He dances a lot like you."

And now Gatsby was making the most pitiful face. He was really rather possessive, when it came down to it. He hadn't let Daisy dance with anyone else all night, and apparently it injured him to even hear her talk about it.

"Stop that," Daisy said. "I was talking about my cousin, you fool. My second cousin, Nick Carraway. He was the first boy I ever enjoyed dancing with."

"Your first love," Gatsby said dramatically, but he was smirking again so she knew he was only teasing her. She acknowledged his words with a laugh.

"Do I owe your dancing talent to him, then?" Gatsby said. He kissed the top of her head and said, "Should I thank him for tonight's pleasures?"

Daisy made a face. She kept on bursting out laughing around Gatsby, and it just wasn't right how he could make her do that. "Don't talk about my cousin when you're kissing me."

Gatsby apparently took that to mean that he should just stop talking altogether because the next few minutes were short on words. Daisy didn't mind. She did push him away when the band started playing a slow song.

"Why should we stop?" Gatsby murmured. He was still just a few inches away from her. Thank goodness they were standing in an inconspicuous corner or Daisy was sure there would have been people staring at them and a good many rumors started. The rumors would have been mostly true but that didn't mean Daisy wanted them to start circulating.

"It's a slow dance," Daisy said. She licked her lips. "I just...I thought it might be nice to slow dance with you. I thought you might be good at it."

"I don't slow dance much," Gatsby said.

"Oh," said Daisy. "That's fine, then." She looked down at the ground, unsure what to say now. Did they just continue kissing? And wasn't that more intimate than slow dancing anyways? Why did she feel so lost?

Gatsby tilted her chin up with one hand, but he didn't kiss her. He just smiled at her, his sincerest smile. "I think I would like to slow dance with you.

" "Oh," Daisy said. Somehow that smile made her more breathless than his kisses ever did. "Well, then." She smiled back, even though her smile could never hope to match his.

They fumbled their way to the dance floor. Hard to find a space to dance, but at least people didn't bump into them as much because they were going slower. And then his hands on her waist, and her hands on his shoulders, and his eyes and her eyes just staring into each other until the boundaries between them seemed to slip away. They were just some strange aggregation of Gatsby-and-Daisy now, and it was a good feeling.

When a fast song started up, Daisy was startled. Gatsby was even more startled. The mood was lost.

It was all right because they could still appreciate a quick dance too, and they enjoyed many more before the night was over.

* * *

Tom Buchanan's forte in dancing was his endurance. Not very surprising, of course. He was an athlete. Daisy was sure he saw dancing as another sport, like football or polo or possibly boxing. His dancing was not as smooth or deft as Nick's dancing or Gatsby's, but there were other good aspects to it. Besides his endurance he put a lot of exuberance into his dancing, and he was precise. His knees never bumped Daisy's, and his hand guiding her on her waist was firm but not rough. He wasn't a perfect dancer, but he was still willing to spend half a party dancing with Daisy.

"You're good at this," he panted out after five dances one evening. "Usually my partner would have left by now to take a break. Nice to dance with someone who can keep up."

"I like dancing," Daisy said simply. It had become the truth after a while. She just had little patience with bad dancers, these days, and abhorred dancing with them. Tom wasn't a bad dancer. He just wasn't brilliant, and so few dancers actually were. (Nick and Gatsby were, but Gatsby was off in another country and Nick was back in the West, probably reading his novels as he always did in his free time.)

Daisy's legs were tired though, and at long last she had to sit down on the edge of the room to rest.

"It was bound to end sometime," Tom laughed. He absently stroked her hair. When she sat and he stood it was just at the right level for him to touch it. He had told her before that he liked her hair, even though she cut it like a flapper, and it amused her when he randomly touched it.

"We could start again in a few minutes," Daisy said. Her legs were tired but she could still feel the rhythm of the music pulsing in her blood. There was no way she was done dancing for the night. (Then again, perhaps the pulse had something to do with the champagne she'd drunk earlier. She might be just a little buzzed.)

"No, Daisy, you rest," Tom said. He perked up suddenly. "I know, I'll get you a drink. Stay here."

He started off, weaving through the crowd of dancers towards the refreshment table.

Already buzzed, Daisy half hoped Tom meant water when he said a drink. She doubted it, though. Tom had plenty of appreciation for alcohol and he had already said that the drinks at this party were "good strong stuff."

Minutes passed.

Daisy began to wonder whether Tom would be coming back at all.

At last he showed up, looking even redder in the face and more tired than before, and not carrying a drink after all. He sat down next to Daisy.

"What were you doing?" Daisy asked.

He cast her a guilty look. "I had to pass through the dance floor to get to the refreshment table and I ended up dancing instead. Some woman I don't even know asked me and I only meant to finish the song with her but I lost track of time."

Daisy bit her lip. Now, she wasn't as possessive as Gatsby. It was fine with her if her escort danced with someone else at a party he brought her to; she wasn't going to dominate his time. But he had said he would be right back and the whole thing sort of rubbed her the wrong way. He didn't seem all that sorry either, even with that guilty look.

The song changed.

"I'll make it up to you, Daisy," Tom said. "Slow dance." He pulled her to her feet almost effortlessly (an athlete, of course, and she still had to marvel at his strength). "You can't be too tired for this."

Slow dancing with Tom wasn't exactly magical, but it was relaxing. Exhausted, she found herself leaning into his chest, not even looking up to meet his eyes. His arms tightened around her waist as she gave him more and more of her weight, and his body warmth was comfortable even though she was already sweating herself.

* * *

Gatsby's party was a thrill. The first one of his she'd ever been to, it upheld all the stories she'd heard about them. The singing, the music playing, the mill of people, the food and drinks, the gaudy decorations...

The dancing.

She'd come with Tom. It was only proper, to take her husband to a party she was going to. Would have been hard to hide it if she came by herself, too. So many people are there, and she knows many of them. If she went without Tom, talk would go around and Tom would hear it and wonder why she would sneak out to the party all by himself. And Daisy wasn't ready to tell him yet, about Gatsby.

So Tom was there, wrinkling his nose at the extravagance of the party and of Gatsby's house. Daisy wanted to defend Gatsby but she feared it would look suspicious if she defended him too much. How much was too much, though? Certainly she could not defend the decorations but perhaps the number of guests...

Tom said, "Well, at least there's dancing. Care for a dance, Daisy?"

But Daisy didn't want to dance with Tom. Not tonight. The air was full of magic, insanely extravagant and brilliant magic, and in this atmosphere, how could she dance with Tom? No, Daisy knew who she wanted to dance with. She knew he would be somewhere in the crowd, too. There was no way he would miss this party.

"I want to get a drink, Tom. Excuse me for a minute."

It was ironic. This time she was the one going for a drink, and she would be the one in another man's arms. It served Tom right, though. She loved him once, in his energy and his confidence and his stupidity, and then he went and spent his days with some other woman. If he could not love her, then he certainly could not dance with her.

The crowd was dense and confusing. As she searched the room for the man she wanted, people called out to her, "Daisy!" "Mrs. Buchanan!" She didn't know who they were and she didn't care. She ignored them. All she wanted was one dance.

"Daisy."

Without her noticing it, Gatsby had somehow ended up right behind her. Probably because of the noise of all the guests.

"Jay," she said. They embraced each other. Only yesterday they had seen each other, but for two so long parted it felt like an eternity. "The party is beautiful. More people came than I had imagined."

"Everyone comes to my parties," Gatsby said with a smile. "Can I get you a drink, Daisy?"

"Certainly."

Daisy didn't drink much of Gatsby's champagne, even though it was some of the best she had ever tasted. She couldn't dance as well drunk, after all. If she wanted to drink more later, she always could. Gatsby was a gentleman. Even if all the champagne at the party ran out she was willing to bet he would search his cellar for more if she asked him to. And the party was certainly not going to run out of champagne.

"You aren't with Tom," Gatsby said. This seemed to please him more than it should have. Yes, everyone knew Daisy wasn't as in love with her husband as she used to be, but that didn't mean she loved Gatsby more. And at this rate he was going to push for her to ask Tom for a divorce again, and she didn't want to have to deal with that tonight.

"Want to go to a more private room?" Gatsby asked.

No, Daisy did not. Even if they did nothing more than talk in the library, leaving the main rooms of the party with Gatsby himself would cause quite a few rumors. And it was unlikely Gatsby would want to stick with talking.

"I want to dance," Daisy said.

"I love dancing with you, Daisy," Gatsby said. His hand was already reaching towards her arm, to lead her to the dance floor. She pulled away.

"Not with you, Jay. Not just now."

Gatsby flinched. His hand was behind his back in a minute as if it had never been reaching towards her. "That's fine, then. I just thought, since you weren't with Tom...You don't love him, Daisy, I don't see why you would dance with him."

"I don't want to dance with Tom either. I want to dance with Nick," Daisy said. "He has to be around here somewhere. We haven't danced together in the longest time." Perhaps not that long, but still.

Nick was simple. Music, and movement, and no insinuations, no demands that dancing meant love. Daisy needed simple.

"Oh. All right then," Gatsby said. He still seemed puzzled and a bit disappointed, but not as downtrodden as earlier. "I saw him near the piano a few minutes ago, talking to Jordan Baker."

Daisy found him within minutes. He was indeed talking to Jordan, and seemed to be enjoying it too. But when Daisy called him onto the dance floor, he was swift to obey. They slipped into the correct position and rhythm with the ease of long practice.

Nick, being a bookworm, was still not a much fancier dancer than he had been as a boy. He didn't slide Daisy between his legs or flip her over his head. They did accomplish a few complicated twists and dips, and that was a great enough achievement.

When the music for a slow dance came on, Daisy hesitated. "I should find Tom." She wanted to find Gatsby.

"I've gotten better at slow dancing," Nick said. "There's no need to search him out."

He really wasn't good at slow dancing at all, and there was a distinct lack of romance in dancing with a cousin. Still, it was more fun than dancing with a man who would insist on staring into her eyes and who would demand she return the stare with equal emotion. She never felt like Nick would judge her, and she knew he had no expectations.

After the dance, they found Jordan again near the piano.

"I'll return your dance partner to you, Jordan," Daisy said, releasing Nick's hand.

"I don't want to dance," Jordan laughed. "I'm not very good at it."

"Oh, just one dance," Nick said. "We can give up if you get frustrated."

And in another moment he had disappeared into the crowd, pulling Jordan along with him.

* * *

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